


To Build A Home

by DaMRRM



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Adoption, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Aspergers Dirk Strider, Child Abuse, Comedy, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mainly focused on Striders, PTSD, References to Depression, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Suicide, Triggers, adding tags as I go, mental health stigma, this sounds worse than it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-07-28 17:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16246250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaMRRM/pseuds/DaMRRM
Summary: After Dave's brother commits suicide, Dave is sent to live with his uncle in California. There, he meets his family for the first time, and tries to learn that the world really can be okay. It's more difficult than he expected.





	1. Ghosting

**Author's Note:**

> Alright to I hope you enjoy this fic, I have spent about a year planning it out and stuff, so it should be fun! Kinda!

    Officer Jace Baldwick was finished. He just was. He was absolutely done with the day, and he couldn’t wait to go home. Alas, he was stuck on a Houston rooftop at six in the evening. He was here to take care of the twelve-year old currently sitting on the edge of the building. Baldwick sighed, and with great effort closed the distance between them in four great strides.

 

    “You can’t be here forever kid,” Baldwick squatted down beside the boy. He was so pale, he’d probably get a sunburn after today. Baldwick didn’t remember the boy’s name, he never remembered names, but he’d remember the silhouette of that pale boy for years to come.

 

    “I can be here for as long as I like,” the boy said sharply.

 

    “You know that’s not true,” Baldwick said, putting a hand on the kid’s shoulder. The boy didn’t shrug it off. He seemed like a stoic kid, but Baldwick didn't want to assume anything. He assumed the kid was just holding in tears and afraid to show them, that or was in shock. Instead, to Baldwick's surprise, he collapsed on Baldwick’s chubby torso and began shuddering. Baldwick patted the boy’s shaking back and shushed him. “I know, I know, he meant the world to you. But it’s gonna be okay…” The boy wept a moment more, before managing to contain his weeping.

 

     He slowly raised himself up and Baldwick could see his eyes wide behind his sunglasses. His words would echo in his ears, raspy and cold when the boy said, “He didn’t mean shit.”

 

    Baldwick sat cradelling the crying boy, stunned. He looked down, letting his dark eyes wander over the boy’s lanky body before drifting to look at the bright red sunset. _Red like blood, red like blood_. Baldwick tried not to think of the body downstairs in the shower. It had been moved out by now, but its ghost still hung there. Baldwick needed a distraction from the red.

 

    “What are you thinking of?” Baldwick said.

 

    The boy sat up a bit, and looked into the distance. He thought over those words, and finally came up with: “Where I’m going.”

 

    “Do you know where you’re going?” Baldwick asked. His blue uniform was itchy, and squeezed too tightly against his beer-belly. He had gained weight since Easter, apparently.

 

    The boy leaned back against Baldwick’s shoulder, not bothering about the itch and instead focusing on a couple arguing down on the streets. From fifty floors above, their problems seemed meaningless. The boy was so distant. Baldwick wondered if that couple would look up and see them, and what they would think. Baldwick debated asking the kid again, but the boy cut him off.

 

    “I’m going to somewhere,” the boy said. He looked into the red distance. It made his face glow a deep gold. The boy turned to look at Baldwick, “Hey officer?”

 

    Baldwick looked the at the boy carefully, “Yes?”

 

    “Can I have a minute alone before I go back down?”

 

    Baldwick nodded, stood slowly and turned to the door down. He looked down at the albino boy, thinking again of sunburn, and shook his head. He had bigger things to worry about. Bigger than boys getting sunburn. But before he left, he did call out, “Make sure to take care from the sun.”

 

   The boy turned back, looked him dead in the eyes, and nodded curtly. Something about his nod would haunt officer Jace Baldwick for many years. He didn’t often get calls like this. He was used to speeding, theft, assault, even a murderer once. Baldwick had been on many a different call. However, one fact remained. He wasn’t used to suicide.

 

   Baldwick walked down the stairs to the apartment, and upon entering was greeted by two people. He knew Blake Skeoch well, they’d been partners for some five years now. His long but built body was a familiar sight. In a way, it was a small comfort that Baldwick had. He clung to it by standing beside Skeoch instead of the social worker. He wasn’t used to Kathrynne Dice. She was the local social worker who would be paired up with the boy above. 

 

   “Have you contacted Mrs. Lalonde yet?” Baldwick asked Dice.

 

   Dice bobbed her head of long curly black hair, “I did. It turns out, she has her own history of alcoholism and theft, so she wasn’t an eligible candidate for guardian.” Dice paused for a bit, then continued, “However, the boy does have relatives in California. In fact, none other than indie director David Strider. As he has a clean record and no major issues in his household, we decided to contact him.”

 

   “And?” Baldwick asked.

 

   “He said yes. He will be picking him up tomorrow from the LAX airport in Los Angelas.”

 

   Baldwick rubbed the back of his head, short brown hair sweaty from being under his cap. His beady blue eyes looked back to the grey apartment door and bit his lip. “So, what’s going to happen to the kid?”

 

    “Well, he’s going to have to pack his things. I brought some boxes for him to pack things in, but it doesn’t look like he has much,” Dice said and looked around her. “We’ll get people to clear out the apartment and ship it to Mr. Strider in a week, but for right now he’ll be staying here for the night. Tomorrow we’ll come back and take him to the airport.”

 

   “Will he be alright?” Baldwick asked.

 

   “Time will tell, Jace. We can’t rush much around here, except for getting him a legal guardian,” Dice says, and closes her impossibly black eyes. After a moment, she opens them and whispers, “I hope so though.”

 

    Dice scowls at her surroundings, and eventually looks to the bathroom where the body had been. “I’m surprised that man still had custody over him.”

 

    “What’cha mean?” Skeoch asked. He fidgeted with a yellow pencil in his hands.

 

   “Well, look at the place. That kid was given nothing but clothes, bedsheets, and a laptop. I’m surprised he has that, actually. He has no toys, no books, nothing. Well, he does have a knife collection, but that’s about it.”

 

   “So he didn’t get much, what’s so bad?”

 

   “Well, his environment is completely unsafe. He’s obviously malnourished, and his school grades are abysmal. Not to mention the state of this apartment. Anyway you slice it, this place is unfit to raise a child,” Dice concluded. She brushed down her pencil skirt with meticulously painted red nails. “I don’t mean to be crass, but Diederick's death could be a good thing.”

 

   “Wow, harsh,” Skeoch drawled. Baldwick grimaced, but he had a feeling that Dice knew what she was talking about.

 

   Baldwick sighed, and scratched his belly. He looked between Dice and Skeoch, but settled on saying nothing. There wasn’t much to say, after all. All that could be said was done. “Should I grab the kid?”

 

   A click drew the adult’s attention. “I’m here,” the boy said, closing the apartment door after him. “So if you don’t mind filling me in on all those sick-nasty deets, I’d like to take a quick leak.”

 

    The boy pushed past them, a bit more timidly than he probably meant to, and headed down the hall to the washroom. Briefly, he paused, looked like he would say something, but he shook his head and walked on.

 

    Baldwick stood in silence as they waited for the boy to come back. Baldwick checked his phone to see the time. It was six-thirty. His wife probably would be starting dinner preparations about now. Baldwick looked forward to hugging her extra tight when he saw her next. Then he would hug his daughter, and he would make an assurance to them that he would never leave. His work did this to him.

 

   The boy came back, brushing himself down. He looked up to the adults and sighed. “So, what’s next?”

 

   Dice bent down a bit, already adopting a child-friendly role. She spoke softly, “Dave, you’re going to be with your uncle in California. He agreed to see you at the airport tomorrow. Do you want help packing your things?”

 

   The boy shook his head, “You’ve seen enough of my shit. I’d really be more enthusiastic about getting my sleep game on though. So, if y’all are picking me up tomorrow, that would be totally chill and all.”

 

   At that, the adults left, and the boy was left on his own. His name was Dave Strider. Like Baldwick, he was done with today. He’d had enough of social workers picking his brain, sitting in offices, and generally dealing with other people. Dave didn’t like dealing with people too much, and today had brought him to his knees.

 

   With that, Dave decided to retire to his room, and sleep for the night. When he woke up, he packed his meager belongings in a backpack and an emergency suitcase. Bro had always advised him to keep it on hand, forced him to do so in fact. Either way, it was useful. Probably not for the reason Bro had intended, but it worked.

 

   When the adults came to pick him up, he walked willingly into their arms, and was quickly shuttled to the airport. Dave had never been on an airplane, and he already hated it. Being sent with a social worker who had no interest in music, no understanding of irony and not a single aspect of not being a stick in the ass was a pain to sit beside. For the entire flight, she would ask him if he wanted anything (he didn’t), ask him if he wanted to check out the movies (he didn’t really like movies), or even ask him about his personal life. Who the fuck did this lady think she was asking him questions about everything in his life?

 

   Dave just shut up and looked out the window, and after twenty minutes, she got the idea. Dave was glad, he had enough of people. So what if she thought he was an asshole, he thought she was a giant phoney bologna fake. It goes both ways, sister, was Dave’s bitter thought.

 

  After picking up his single suitcase at bag returns, Dave was shuttled out into bright lights to search for some pompous asshole claiming to be his uncle. Did he even have an uncle? Dave thought if Bro ever mentioned having a brother.

 

    Kathrynne Dice grabbed his shoulder, and started walking him towards a tall slender figure. Dave looked at the tall, slender man in the red suit, and decided that his dad most certainly did have a brother.

 

   David Strider grinned openly behind his sloppily scrawled sign. “Hey Dave, I’m your uncle David. Nice to meet you finally!”

 

   Dave looked the man in his shades, and decided that he was an absolute prick.


	2. Caught in the Devil's Lair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave finally enters his new home. However, his thoughts are starting to turn on him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so glad you're reading. I really appreciate it and all. However, I'd like to mention this chapter has some mental health stigma, and some references to Bro's abuse. I hope y'all understand and all that. I will mention that Dave's recovery is based on what a family member's experience in social work was, along with my own experience in life.

It was clear that David Strider was just a mega-giant massive prick. The second Dave was taken under his wing, he’d hit it off with Kathrynne Dice like a ball of a schoolyard wall. And goddamn was that ball bouncy. Bouncy as a goddamn bouncy castle. Bouncier than, even. Hell, Dave didn’t have a way of explaining how the two clicked so easily.

 

Dave sighed for the umptimillionth time as David squealed over the possibility of having Dave’s baby photos. God this was what he was getting into. He was getting into an overly emotional household that probably kept doilies under their vases.

 

They’d been driving for half an hour, deeking through traffic and swerving around corners. The city was the seat of human madness, Dave had decided.

 

When Dave first laid eyes on the suburban van he’d nearly gagged. It was a disgusting slick black, like it was attempting to be a sophisticated mustang. On the passenger door was a large dent. Dave wondered if it was because whoever made it realized the gravity of their mistake and tried to end it before cursing the world with its presence.

 

In the front window, a little air freshener tree swung side to side. It mocked Dave with it’s rhythmic, pendulous motions. Dave wanted to take it and eat it and hopefully die. He couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his uncle David’s home. It was probably some shitty suburban bungalow with plastic flamingos and gnomes in front and a little picket fence just to top it off. To sum up, it would be some shitty ticky tacky house on the hill that everybody with less than half a brain wanted.

 

Dave was less interested in his surroundings and  more by the possibility of leaping out the car door and avoiding his uncle’s annoying banter with Dice. It seemed like everyone in this car was determined to push him to his breaking point, including his own fucked up mind.

 

David was casually sipping (unironically) on a starbucks coffee and laughing at whatever asinine thing the social worker said. He responded with a drawling, “Yeah.” He said that often. It was like he didn’t take anything seriously.

 

At this rate, Dave preferred his Bro’s curt and almost brutal responses to this assfuck’s mindless drabbling. Dave sighed and peered out the windows. He blinked as he noticed an iron gate open before the car. They drove in slowly, the tires crackling on loose gravel.

 

Dave, in all twelve years of his life, had never been in a gated community. He gripped his suitcase tightly as he watched the sprawling estates pass by. So maybe not a shitty bungalow. Dave sniffed before turning to David.

 

The man was casually driving like he hadn’t a care in the world. It was like he was so empty-headed. Dave hated people like that. Had since he was a kid. Well, younger kid. Either way, the man may have looked like the albino spitting image of Bro, but his personality was completely different.

 

The man seemed totally vapid. His mind was probably as effective at keeping information as a tin sieve holding molten lead. For god’s sakes, the man was a corporate slave in that disgustingly tailored suit. Who the hell was so full of themselves that they would go out of their way to get a fire-engine red suit, nevermind wear it in public?

 

Dave stewed over these thoughts, collecting ingredients to spice up his brew. At the top of the list was probably his Ben Stiller-looking shades. They were just so… Gimmicky. That was probably the best way to describe his uncle. A gimmicky asshole with a pompous air about him.

 

Dave huffed under his breath as David invited Dice into the house, but was respectfully declined. “I’m sorry to tell you Mr. Strider, but I’m afraid you’re not off the hook. The court asked that Dave be visited by a social worker for the next four months. We want to make certain he’s adjusting to his home well,” Dice said.

 

“Well that’s alright miss,” David drawled. Dave gagged. “M’am, I know what it’s like to work with kids like Dave. He’ll be perfectly suited to my household. But, I must ask, will Dave be given any community supports?”

 

“Such as?” Dice asked.

 

“Well,” David started. “I was thinking about putting the boy in therapy. I don’t know what he saw, but I imagine this is a pretty horrific experience and all.” Under his breath, quiet for so as to not let Dave hear, “That, and the whole fam damily is a fuckin shit-show”

 

Dice nodded, and replied, “I imagine that he’ll be given some of those supports, yes.”

 

Dave rolled his eyes. Like hell these people would get him to even consider going to therapy. The whole practise of it was a crock of shit anyways. Bro had proven that to him.

 

The car slowly turned into a long driveway blocked by yet another gate. David pressed a button on his keys and they opened. Thus, the group set out down a long, winding driveway guarded by trees. At one point, Dave thought he saw a small pond with a flowing fountain, but it was hidden by the thick foliage. Dave would need to check it out later.

 

After approximately five minutes of driving, a looming castle came into view. The building was almost like an Spanish cathedral, with spires into the sky and a large round stained-glass window in the front and center. The stone was partially covered in a creeping ivy, strangling the building. 

 

Dave shrunk in his seat as he marvelled the new home. His eyes were wide as dinner plates, dumbfounded even when Dice opened the door for him. He didn’t say a word, just slowly unfurled onto the pebble ground.

 

David chuckled under his breath. He walked around the car and clapped Dave on the back with one hand and marvelled his home. “It’s nice, ain’t it,” David said.

 

“I guess,” Dave mumbled. He walked ahead to the front porch, leaving David a bit confused. He quickly recovered to spring up to the door and unlock it. Under Dice’s scrutinizing gaze, David could feel himself beginning to sweat under his collar.

 

“So, welcome to casa Strider,” David grinned as he opened the door for Dave. The boy simply huffed and rolled his suitcase inside. David grimaced at Dice, who simply shrugged her shoulders in response.

 

“Some kids tend to repress their trauma,” Dice explained, and followed after Dave.

 

She marvelled the gorgeous white landing. The spiraling staircase to the second floor was a gorgeous polished hardwood, while underneath was an entire library of books. A potted fern was placed neatly at the bottom, carefully labeled with a wooden post.  _ Boston Fern _ , it read. Someone in the house was obviously a gardener.

 

Dave was standing in the hallway, looking up the stairs. On the top, a small black cat sat. It winked one golden eye at Dice before turning it’s back and stalking away. Dice was observant enough to catch a small smile on Dave’s face before it vanished into his usual unreadable mask.

 

“Hey Dave?” Dice called out. Dave turned toward her, the only sign he hear her. “Dave, I’m going to be leaving back to Houston now, alright?” Dave nodded. “Alright, I’ll hope that you do well here Dave. Best of luck!” Dice smiled encouragingly, btu Dave didn’t react in the slightest. Dice sighed. “Dave, can you do something for me?”

 

“‘Pends,” Dave said blankly.

 

“Dave, I want you to have my number if you ever feel unsafe, alright?” Dice passed him a business card and stood up. She looked down at Dave, unable to hide her pitying eyes. He glanced away. “You’re going to be a great man, Dave.”

 

Dave cocked his head at her, and nodded curtly. With that, Dice left to the outside, and called a taxi. As she walked to the end of Dave’s driveway, she hoped that she was right about what she said.

 

David had watched Dice leave, and watched as Dave looked on the walls to see rows of pictures. Dave didn’t look at David when he asked, “Where was she.”

 

“Where was who?” David asked, a tad confused.

 

“Her,” David said and gestured with his head towards a particularly large picture.

 

David followed Dave’s gaze to a picture of himself with… Oh… David gulped and shuffled his feet as he said softly, “My wife, Roseanne. She’s… Not with us anymore.”

 

Dave looked to Dave, “She’s dead.”

 

David was taken aback, but responded with a soft-spoken, “Yes.”

 

Dave nodded and looked to the other pictures. David stepped towards Dave, “Would you like to see your room?”

 

Dave nodded. David bit his lip uncomfortably and went to grab his suitcase. In a flash, Dave had leapt back a step and pushed his suitcase behind him defensively. In a way, he looked like an angry puffed-up owl. Were it not for the gravity of the situation, David would’ve laughed. Instead, he said, “I guess you can carry it yourself.”

 

“Hmph,” was the only response he got. So, David turned and lead Dave up the stairs. Dave noticed that there were four doors, three of which already had name signs on them. The only blank one was in the back corner.

 

“That’s the hall closet, not the bathroom,” David pointed at the white door at the end of the hall. “Your door is the one beside it, without a name. We’ll get your name up there in no time, alright?”

 

Dave nodded. He furrowed his brows. “I gotta take a leak.”

 

David showed him to the bathroom, full of granite tiles and a marble sink. Dave didn’t care for any of it, if he was going to be honest with himself.

 

After he finished his business (a fair amount considering that he hadn’t gone since the airports in Texas) Dave decided to check out his room. When he entered, he saw David fluffing his pillows and brushing down the sheets.

 

After a moment, David sheepishly turned around and said, “Just making sure.”

 

Dave nodded as David scooted out. Finally, Dave was given a moment alone.

 

As soon as the door closed, Dave leapt into action. He scrounged the curtains for bugs, checked the walls for security cams. He nearly disassembled the alarm clock on his table to check for cams. He crashed and banged his way through the room until he was sure he was left alone, in peace. Peace. That wasn’t something that Dave was used to.

 

In the silence that followed his chaos, he thought over how different this home was from Bro’s. It was bigger, that much was a give. However, it was also warmer. The place wasn’t obviously bugged. It was, quiet. Homely. Dave found it strange and discomforting.

 

_ It must be a trap!  _ Dave concluded. He felt his skin crawl with repulsion. He was trapped in a house with an oblivious government guinea pig, and he was probably being spied on right that minute. Carefully, Dave stood in the center of the room.

 

He put his suitcase on the bed and began to unpack into the nearby (bug-free) wardrobe. He put his laptop on the given desk, and decidedly put a slip of paper inside, so that if it were jostled it would fall out. Bro taught Dave these tricks a long time ago.

 

For all Dave knew, this was just an elaborate joke of his father’s. His dad could still be alive, watching his reaction. But no, he couldn’t! He was dead! He was dead he was dead he was dead. Or was he?

 

Dave shook his head clear of the thoughts. He was safe now. He had to be. Bro had never involved a social worker into the plans before. Neither had he put him on a plane. Thus, that seemed to be too much, even for Bro.

 

As Dave thought over this slowly, he was interrupted by David yelling from downstairs, “Dinner time boys!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey since you're here, why not give a comment below? I would really appreciate it and all that jazz. I love hearing what everyone has to say, and I respond to each comment!!! So yeah, my personal blurb outta the way, I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it!


	3. Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I struggled so much. So much.

“Dinner time boys!” David yelled from the bottom of the stairwell. As soon as he spoke, a parallel blur of ginger raced past him. David turned around to look at Davis and Lil Hal racing into the kitchen, shoving each other and cursing far more than kids ever should. David chuckled and waited a moment longer.

 

Dave slowly crept out of his room and down the hall. After all the ruckus he was a bit worried that something would come out at him like that stupid fucking puppet Cal. Did his uncle like puppets? Dave paled even more and scurried down.

 

There, he stood face to tummy with David. Oh shit. He didn’t need this. Without a word, Dave quietly slinked around David to the kitchen where the sounds of laughing and yelling came. Something about one being a “Chicken-ass piece of shit”.

 

David didn’t mind Dave’s quiet nature. In fact, it was quite calming compared to his other boys. Davis was generally alright, but Lil Hal, the youngest, he was a monster. God he could be so loud and obnoxious, it was hard to believe Hal was his own kid.

 

However, his eldest was much like Dave, but for a different reason. Speaking of him, David decided to go up to his room to check on him.

 

He climbed the stairs with heavy footsteps. Not for lack of enthusiasm, but more it had been a long day. All in all though, it seemed successful. Obviously Dave didn’t like him all that much, but he might get along with the others. However, he would need to research the local public schools for their quality of special needs care. Obviously, Dirk’s old school would be the preferred choice, but he would still have to consider other options.

 

David smiled as he walked down the hall and knocked on Dirk’s door. After a bit of scuffling, the door cracked open. Dirk, tall and intimidating, looked down on David with a confused look.

 

“It’s time for dinner Dirk,” David explained. Dirk paused, bit his lip, but then nodded, and brushed past him to go downstairs. Sometimes the boy just needed a reminder. That’s what David always told himself. He looked to see what Dirk was looking on, and saw only a mess of wires and circuit boards.

 

David finally followed his son downstairs to the dining room. There, David had prepared a nice roast chicken to welcome Dave into the family. Lil Hal and Davis were already seated at the table, trying not to stare at Dave standing in a corner of the room. Dirk had taken his place at the end of the table, and was neatly positioning his cutlery.

 

David sat down at one head of the table and gestured to an empty spot beside him, “Hey Dave, wanna join us for supper?”

 

Dave silently slunk over and sat in the given chair. He picked at his knife and fork as though in a sulk.

 

“So, Dave, this is Hal,” one of the gingers, the younger one nodded. “The one sitting beside him is Davis.” Davis raised a hand in salute. “And my final son, my eldest is named Dirk.” Dirk didn’t respond, somethign Dave could relate to.

 

“Kids, this is Dave. He’s your cousin from Houston,” Dave introduced. “He’ll be living with us now.”

 

There was a moment of silence over the table. Dave watched each of his cousins process the information. Lil Hal chewed slowly, and let a piece of chicken drop back onto his plate. Davis stared at Dave with unwavering orange eyes, and Dirk was frozen in his seat.

 

“Hi,” said Dave.

 

As the boys slowly kicked into action, David cleared his throat and asked, “So Dave, how’s the chicken?”

 

“Dry like a white lady’s cooch on Thanksgiving,” Dave responded as arid as the winds in the Sahara desert.

 

Dave nodded sheepishly and looked back at his plate. “To be honest, cooking isn’t really my forte. I just wanted to try it out for once. Lil Hal, your thoughts on the chicken?”

 

“Well,” the ginger started. “I think you need to get into a gang-bang with Gordon Ramsay and Julia Child because this shit is like their dearly departed trash bag.”

 

“Alright you know what, I’m looking for an honest review of my chicken, not some assholes jumping onto a bandwagon just to screw with me. Dirk!” Dirk jerked upright in his seat. “How’s the chicken?”

 

Dirk looked blankly at the chicken. With a voice as flat as a 2D line, Dirk said, “I don’t like this chicken.”

 

David sighed and said, “Dirk, how could you be so cruel?”

 

Dirk shrugged, “Truth hurts.”

 

David groaned and looked at his sons with disappointment. “My sons, how could you turn on your dear father like this?”

 

“You say that like it’s a hard thing to do,” Davis said over a mouthful of broccoli.

 

David shook his head and dug back into his chicken, “I think it’s perfectly fine.”

 

And with that, dinner conversation was finished. It wasn't likely that anyone wanted to speak to Dave, and Dave wasn’t in a mood to speak to anyone.

 

When Dave went back upstairs, all he could think of was how surreal this entire event was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God forgive me.


	4. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dave has breakfast for the first time.

Dave Strider had no clue on how to function in this household. He’d just woken up, and already he’d heard far too much chaos for his liking. At least it wasn’t a smuppet attack, but still. He didn’t appreciate waking up to sirens and screaming.

 

Dave rubbed his eyes slowly as he placed his feet on the floor. He looked at the clock. Six am. Yeah it was way too fucking early for this. Dave felt a pain deep inside him as he pried himself out of the surprisingly warm and comfy bed. It was far better than his bed at home. Back home, he slept on a mattress on cinder blocks. It was god awful. But then again, back home he wasn’t woken up by screeching seagulls.

 

The screaming slowly wandered downstairs, and Dave felt it was safe to open his room. He creaked the door open, and was met face-to-face with eldest brother Dirk. Dirk looked at him, blank and imposing, before slowly slinking back into his room and shutting the door with a quiet click.

 

Dave blinked behind his shades slowly. Once, twice. Once again, he was baffled by the Strider family. He walked out of the doorframe and through the disaster zone below him (it reminded him of his real home in Texas) and to the bathroom. There, it was sparkling. Dave was stunned by the sheer dichotomy between the halls and the bathroom. 

 

The bathroom seemed pristine. The toilet was scrubbed, the shower was dry, and the sink was beautifully organized. Immediately, Dave noticed that someone had kindly laid out a toothbrush, roll of toothpaste and a mug for him. It was oddly homely of them. Dave wondered where the pantry of extra brushes was at.

 

Brushing his teeth, Dave listened carefully. He couldn’t hear a single whirr of cameras. It irked him. He knew his uncle was rich, did he invest in better cameras? Dave couldn’t tell. However, it was likely there was a camera in here. Bro always placed cameras in the bathroom. Dave didn’t like to think of what he did with the footage. He knew, but it disgusted him. However, it got bills rolling in. Dave knew his uncle was a director, like his own father. He didn’t know what videos he made though…

 

Dave shook the thought from his head and gargled. Spitting out, he noticed a figure in the mirror. He screamed.

 

“Dave!” David yelled and rushed to the bathroom. He burst open the door and looked to Dave. He looked at what Dave was shrieking at. He laughed. “Oh Dave, meet Lil Cal.”

 

“No! Get it the fuck away from me!” Dave yelled and huddled under the sink.

 

“I guess he is a little creepy,” David said and picked up the ominous doll. “I’ll go bring it to Dirk,” he said and walked down the hall to deliver the package.

 

Dave watched David leave and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  _ God damn this household _ , Dave vowed in his mind before he slowly stood up and hit his head on the sink.  _ God damn this house till its frame rots _ .

 

Dave exited the bathroom and walked down the stairs. There, he was confronted by David Strider.

 

“Dave, would you mind taking a seat at the table while I make you some breakfast?” 

 

Dave blinked, “Breakfast?”

 

David laughed, “Of course! It’s the most important meal of the day.”

 

Dave blinked again, “What.”

 

David grinned and turned to the kitchen, saying over his shoulder, “I’ll just get started.”

 

Dave was a bit bewildered by this, but more so by the argument between Davis and Hal.

 

“It’s my fucking waffle, back off you little dick!” Davis screeched as he curled around his plate.

 

Dave pulled around the corner to see Hal, fork in hand, jabbing away at his brother. In defense, Davis had squatted on his chair, gripping his plate in one hand and wielding a fearsome butter knife. Beside them was a spot layed out for him. Or at least Dave assumed so.

 

Dave sat down and looked at the plate. He was a bit bewildered by it all. He’d never really had breakfast before. Bro had never really talked much about nutrition.

 

“Um, where’s the pizza.”

 

David blinked. Hal and Davis stared at Dave strangely.

 

“What the fuck do you mean, pizza?” Hal blurted out.

 

“Well, when I lived with Bro, he would usually have some leftovers from last night’s dinner, know what I mean?” Dave tried to explain, but was met only with blank faces.

 

David groaned, “I’m so sorry for Dietrick. He was never a breakfast person. But here, in casa Strider, we worship the breakfast. We live and breathe the breakfast. Our morning meals summon us from slumber. It powers us, drives us, sustains us for our daily duties like gasoline in a ferrari. We need breakfast like a fish needs water, a bird needs air.”

 

Dave took a moment to take in the prick’s monologue. “David man, I don’t think I need to eat chopped melons and a toasted bagel every morning. I’ll get fat, you bastard.”

 

“Not if you work out!” David grinned and went back to chopping pineapple. “Dirk likes pineapple, and we’re out of oranges.”

 

“So, why are you pulling a Nanny Mcphee on us instead of hiring a live-in nanny?” Dave asked while leaning on the counter.

 

“Well, normally I would,” David said, mindlessly chopping. “I often get a nanny for when I’m away. But when I’m here, I try to make the most out of it. I squeeze the juice outta these fruits, you know? I crave that sustenance. Just swim in the juice of family. That’s what I do.”

 

“So, to cut through all the ironic bullshit, you do this because you can?”

 

Hal nodded. “Yeah. Dad doesn’t often get to have time at home, so he makes the most of what he’s got.”

 

“But then where do you go?” Dave asked accusingly.

 

“I’m a director, I go on movie sets,” David stated. “I write the scripts, hire the actors, put on the whole sha-bang.”

 

Now was the moment of truth. “So what type of movies do you make?” Dave asked.

 

David paused, “Mostly indie. I made the Sweet Bro Hella Jeff series, I’m working on another that’s less comedy and more… I dunno. Realistic? Poetic? I’m really going for a ‘dark and serious’ vibe this time around. That said, I have to keep hammering away and stoking my fires. Script is only in molten lead form now, but I assure you it’ll be the sharpest blade in the country. Fine enough for a king!’ David laughed.

 

Dave was stunned by this idiot’s asinine bullshit.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, I have a tumblr in case anyone is interested.
> 
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/damrrm


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